


Swift Flight

by Kenyastarflight



Series: Glory's Tales [13]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, Slice of Life, Too Many OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenyastarflight/pseuds/Kenyastarflight
Summary: Glory's daughter, Swift, is coming of age on a Cybertron finally at peace.  But even peacetime has its trials, and Swift discovers that even a non-soldier can find a cause worth fighting for.
Series: Glory's Tales [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717957
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It is STRONGLY recommended that you read the other stories in this series -- _Thundercracker's Glory, Glory and Honor,_ and _The Power and the Glory_ \-- before reading this story, otherwise you'll have no idea what's going on.
> 
> And here you thought I was done with Glory stories. ;) This time, however, Glory steps aside a bit to make way for her daughter, Swift. 
> 
> If you're picking this story up expecting action and fight scenes, you'll probably be disappointed -- Swift's story takes place after the Great War, and she's unlikely to face the same sort of dangers and enemies her parents did. Though hopefully her story will be entertaining anyhow.
> 
> Friendly reminder -- Season 4 of G1 didn't happen in this continuity. So no Headmasters or Targetmasters.

_There are mechs who say you can't choose your family. They weren't there the day my mother and father dove out of the sky to rescue us._

_I suppose I'd been looking for a hero all my life. Someone to swoop in and rescue me from my situation. There had been the drones who had brought me to Shockwave's academy after the attack that killed my creator, and the Autobots who dug us out of the bomb shelter after Unicron wiped out the school… but somehow those never really counted in my CPU. I was almost too young to even remember the explosion, let alone the faceplates of the drones that plucked me from the rubble. And can it really be called a rescue when you're simply switching one form of captivity for another, Shockwave's rigid boot camp of a school for the "rehabilitation" of the Autobots?_

_The Autobots meant well - they truly did want us to find homes. But they somehow thought we needed to be "re-educated" before we could be trusted to new families. And for all their good intentions, all their "re-education" taught us is that we were somehow flawed, that we weren't good enough as we were to deserve new families and had to be "fixed" to be suitable for an adoptive family. No child should ever be put in that situation._

_Those of us who had been entrusted to Digger's academy for "rehabilitation" had spoken in hushed tones of a hero soaring in to snatch us to safety… but we never dreamed it would actually happen. So when a Seeker and a triple-changer swept in over the wall one day to confront our captors and take us away, our first reaction was one of terror. But they were nothing but kind and warm to us… well, the triple-changer I would come to call Dad wasn't at first, but under his gruff and grouchy veneer he hid a caring spark._

_Glory and Blitzwing risked their lives and went up against incredible odds to rescue a group of sparklings, putting their own desperate mission on hold to see to our safety. They accepted us without questions or conditions… and when I latched onto Glory, accepting her as a mother figure, she accepted me right back. I started that day an orphan, and ended it with a loving family._

_My parents have had their own hardships to face. My mother lost her family at a young age, and fought on the front lines in the last days of the Great War. My father grew up with an abusive creator, was enlisted in the triple-changer program against his will, and spent time as a wanted fugitive before the war came to a close. Yet they didn't let their hardships define them, and they are two of the strongest and bravest beings I know._

_My parents may not have drawn my spark from Vector Sigma themselves, but they have done a great deal to forge me into the mechanism I am today. And for that reason I regard them as my heroes, every bit as much as others might see Optimus Prime or Emperor Deszaras as heroes._

* * *

"Hmmm."

Swift flinched at that sound, but she drew her wings back and waited for her advisor's judgment. Datastream was a notoriously difficult teacher to please, but Swift appreciated her honesty. And while other students had balked at having the hard-driving teacher assigned to them as a final-term advisor, she felt it would be helpful. A bit painful and humbling, perhaps, but helpful.

"Hmmm." The thin, elegant violet-and-copper femme lowered the datapad and raised the clear visor she wore - her optics had gone out of focus over the vorns, but rather than get them recalibrated she elected to wear a corrective visor instead. "Eloquently put, Swift, but you can do better than this."

Swift's spark sank, but she nodded and folded her hands in her lap. "What changes do you suggest I make, Professor Datastream?"

"My dear, it's not a technical issue in the writing," Datastream replied, setting the datapad face-down and sliding it across the desk to the young spacecraft-former. "It's a decently-written piece. Much like many I've read before."

Swift frowned behind her mask. "Is that the problem then, Professor? It's too much like everyone else's?"

"Exactly." She folded her long-fingered hands atop her desk as she regarded her student. "It never ceases to amaze me how, of all the possible topics one can pick for the university admission essays, students continually pick the most cliche of them to write. And sadly, cliches rarely stand out of the crowd - especially when the students not only pick a cliche topic, but write a sadly cliche essay to match it. You're far from the first applicant to consider your parents your heroes, and you'll by no means be the last."

The words were out before she could stop them: "Is it bad to consider my parents my heroes?"

"That's not at all what I'm saying," Datastream corrected. "I'm sure they're very lovely mechs. But as I said, it's a very tiresome essay topic."

"Sometimes cliches stick around because they're true," Swift replied. "I guess… that question seemed easiest to answer."

"The easiest path is rarely the most rewarding," Datastream replied. "My advice, dear, would be to start over fresh. Pick another topic. One that will help you stand out from the crowd. You'll have a lot of competition for the university you've picked, and anything that will draw the optic of the admissions board will help you."

Swift suppressed a disappointed sigh and nodded, taking the datapad. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're quite welcome." And unexpectedly, she smiled. "You're a bright young femme, Swift. And your parents DID raise you well. Just try a little harder to stretch your wings, all right? Make a name for yourself outside their shadow."

"Yes, ma'am." She nodded and stood, blushing self-consciously behind her mask. Most of the time she didn't mind her size, but it always felt awkward towering over most of her teachers.

"Come back next decacycle and I'll have a look at your new admissions essay," Datastream told her. "Go ahead and send the next student in while you're at it."

Swift nodded and left the office.

A small antechamber separated Datastream's office from the corridor outside - perhaps it had once been a waiting area, but now the professor seemed to use it mainly as a buffer to prevent hallway noises from filtering inside. Swift leaned back against the wall of the "buffer zone" and let out a deep sigh, collecting her thoughts before she walked out. She hadn't expected her essay to get a glowing review, but she'd hoped for a bit more positive of feedback. Datastream was difficult to please, but Swift hadn't expected her entire essay to be rejected like that.

 _Just rewrite it,_ she told herself. _It's not the end of the world. There are other topics you liked that might be interesting._ Still, it stung to have something so personal and close to her spark criticized.

 _Though if she disliked your essay on who your hero is, just wait until she reads Ricochet's._ The thought of their writing professor having to read Ricochet's lengthy screed about how amazing and misunderstood the Stunticons were was enough to make her giggle. It didn't completely improve her mood, but it helped.

She'd only written the truth, though. She'd looked up to her parents her entire life. How could she not? It wasn't just for their accomplishments during the Great War and its aftermath - though having one of the first triple-changers ever created as a father and a former Air Commander as a mother was pretty impressive. But they'd not only rescued her from the re-education school when she was a tiny sparkling, but had been attentive and loving parents her whole life.

And when she had learned more about their pasts - that Blitzwing had suffered under the hands of an abusive creator and been enlisted in the triple-changer program against his will by said creator, and Glory had lost her entire family at a young age and been forced to grow up fast under the cruel reign of Galvatron - it just amazed her all the more that they had overcome their odds and become the mechs she'd come to love. To call family.

She sighed again and headed for the exit. Well, her essay might not cut it for her university admission, but that didn't mean she had to delete and forget it. Perhaps she'd polish up the rejected essay and make it a gift for her parents, or just stash it with the rest of her writing. It might never see the light of day, but she would rather it languish with the rest of her scribbled ramblings than be wiped out forever.

Two other students waited in the corridor outside Datastream's office, one leaning against the wall and thumbing at a handheld gaming device, the other sitting on the floor and frantically making last-second edits to a datapad. The one on the floor, a sleek yellow carformer with black trim and a jaggedly pointed helm that looked like the hairstyle of a human anime character, started as her shadow fell over him, but relaxed when he saw it was just Swift.

"Hornet, she's ready for you," she told him.

"Oh slag, I'm not ready for HER!" Hornet tapped out a final line and stuffed his datapad under his arm. "Please tell me she's in a good mood today, she's not gonna strip my paint for a bad essay, is she?"

"She's just like she always is," Swift replied. "Tough but fair."

Hornet groaned. "Which means she's gonna strip my paint." He rose to his feet and trudged into their advisor's office. "Tell Dad I'll have them ship my chassis home."

"Drama queen!" the other mech called after him as the office door slid shut. "Slag, if he was so fraggin' stressed about this essay, he should've been working on it last night instead of out clubbing all night. Surprised his dad didn't crack down and force him to stay home to work on it."

"Onslaught probably figures that he's an adult now and can make his own decisions," Swift replied. "Which means having to face the consequences of them too."

"Sounds like an Onslaught thing to say." The other mech, a black Seeker with crimson trim, pulled away from the wall and gestured for Swift to follow him. "How'd it go?"

"Not so good," Swift replied, walking alongside the shorter mech - despite Seekers being among the taller Decepticon frames, the top of his helm barely reached her shoulder. "She wants me to write a new essay on a different topic."

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "It was a great essay! Or did she think you stole it or something?"

"I hate to tell you this, Valiant, but you're the only one of us who buys your essays from Uncle Swindle," Swift informed him. "No, she just thinks it's the same as a bunch of others she's read, and it needs to stand out."

Valiant snorted. "Honestly, the universities get so many applicants that I really doubt they read every single freakin' essay. More likely they just throw them all in a bucket and pull some out at random."

Swift gazed down at the datapad in her hands. "So what topic did YOU pick?"

Valiant snorted again. "I'm entering the Air Corps. They don't want you to spit out five hundred words about how good a student you'd be, they just care if you can fly in a straight line."

"Oh… you might have a problem with that."

"Might have a problem with wha- hey!" Valiant glared up at the taller femme, who just giggled behind her mask. "Slag, you don't get zingers in often, but when you do-"

"Hey Swift!"

Swift glanced up… and felt a smile break out beneath her mask. Five other mechs waited for them at the school doors - a bright red motorcycle-former with twin horns sweeping back from her helm, a bronze-and-green cassette-carrier with an amber visor, a copper-and-orange beastformer with wings folded over his shoulders like a cloak, a navy-blue flier with wing-like headfins, and a chunky violet mech with the cylinder of a road-roller settled on his shoulders.

Firebolt, Echo, Ricochet, Stardust, and Lancer. Her old friends from Shockwave's academy, ones who, along with Valiant and Hornet, had unwillingly joined her at the Autobots' re-education school before their rescue and adoption into Decepticon families. The eight of them had gone through a great deal together, and friendships forged in that kind of fire didn't disintegrate easily.

The cycle-former grinned widely and waved Swift and Valiant over to join them.

"Hi Firebolt," Swift greeted. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Professor Datastream wanted to give some feedback on my essay."

"Oh, ouch." Firebolt winced. "I'm sorry."

"You all act like she's some kind of tyrant," the cassette-carrier noted. "Is she really that bad?"

"She's worse, Echo," Valiant chuckled. "She's probably ripping Hornet's essay to shreds right now."

"Poor Hornet," the beastformer chuckled.

"Don't laugh, Ricochet, you're next on her chopping block," Valiant teased.

Swift shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. She wasn't sure she liked hearing her friends trash-talk one of her favorite teachers like this. Datastream might be tough, but to her there was a difference between delivering fair criticism and being cruel. But she kept quiet, letting her friends continue to exchange jabs and jokes for a bit instead of raising a fuss.

"So once the ol' junker releases Hornet from her clutches, do you guys wanna go hit the Rustbucket?" asked the road-roller. "Have a few drinks, hang out a bit?"

"I've gotta get home," the blue flier replied with a frown. "I promised Dad I'd help him out in his shop tonight. Can I take a rain check?"

"You've taken eight rain checks, Stardust," the roller retorted. "One of these days you need to learn to say no to your parents. You're an adult now, you make your own rules."

"Like you don't jump when Hook tells you to, Lancer," Valiant laughed. "Tomorrow night, Star?"

"Sounds good." Stardust nodded. "Rustbucket? Fleet Fox?"

"We'll figure that out tomorrow," Valiant replied. "Everyone else in?"

The others chimed in their agreement. Swift had just opened her mouth to add her assent when she spotted a familiar figure through the transparisteel doors of the lobby.

"I'll meet you guys tomorrow," she told them. "My dad's here."

"What IS it with dads breaking up the party?" Valiant groaned, throwing his hands into the air.

"Like your mom hasn't thrown us out of your house when a party's run too late," Lancer replied.

"Tell your dad hi for us, Swift," Echo told her, patting her shoulder.

"I will." She said her goodbyes and hurried outside.

Blitzwing stood on the sidewalk just outside the school, his faceplates contorted in his usual grumpy scowl. Even now, vorns after the Great War had come to a close, the triple-changer commanded an intimidating reputation, and his infamously grouchy nature did little to help matters. Passing mechs gave him a wide berth, and a few groups of students pointed and whispered in hushed tones, giving him wary looks as if expecting him to charge them with sword drawn or guns blazing at any moment.

But the moment Swift stepped out of the lobby, Blitzwing's scowl melted into a smile that did wonders to erase the air of menace around him. He strode forward to meet her, arm raised, and she ducked down to let him loop his arm around her shoulders in a half-embrace.

"Hi Dad," she greeted, and let her mask slide aside to smile back at him.

"Hey kid," he replied, thumping her back lightly before releasing her. "Way to keep your old man waiting, huh?"

"I told you I was going to be late," she replied as they set off for home, walking side by side. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"Your mom and I have taken turns walkin' you home from school since we got you," Blitzwing informed her. "We ain't about to stop now just 'cause you got your upgrade."

"Da-ad," she groaned, laughing. "Just don't keep doing it when I'm in university, okay?"

"Don't tempt me. How'd it go anyhow? That advisor of yours better have given you top marks, you spent days on that essay."

"It's not for a grade, it's for university admissions. And it was good… but she thinks I need to write it on a different topic to help it stand out better."

Blitzwing snorted. "I think you need a second opinion. Let me or your mom read it, give you our feedback."

"No!" she exclaimed, wincing as the protest came out louder than she intended. "I mean… it's okay. I'll just rewrite it. It's no big deal."

Blitzwing snorted but let it go. "Anything else exciting happen? That boyfriend of yours ask you out this weekend?"

"Dad, Valiant and I are just friends," Swift retorted. "Have been since we were kids. It's not like THAT."

"That's how it always starts," Blitzwing replied. "And he better not be askin' you out without asking my permission first."

"Mom says you're not allowed to make that a rule," Swift reminded him.

"Your mom's way too lenient about the dating issue," Blitzwing grumbled. "Though I guess if Swindle'd made that his rule we'd never have bonded, so…"

Swift laughed softly. "Is Mom still at the museum?"

"Yup. Want to go see her? See how her art exhibition's going?"

"I'd love that."

As the two of them made their way to the transport station, Swift let her thoughts drift back to her conversation with Datastream. She loved her parents dearly - they'd always been supportive of her, and had long been her heroes. But she was in her adult frame now, even if she was still attending school, and some part of her wondered if perhaps it wasn't time to find her own place in the world.

" _Your parents DID raise you well. Just try a little harder to stretch your wings, all right? Make a name for yourself outside their shadow."_

Perhaps she should take her professor's advice. The question was how… and what direction she should take flight in once she had properly stretched her wings.


	2. Harmony

"I don't get it."

Glory huffed in exasperation. "I've explained it to you three times now and you still don't get it?"

"It's a pile of junk!" Blitzwing insisted, waving his arm at the hodgepodge of metal scraps, meticulously welded together to form a spiraling tower that reached over Swift's head. "You keep saying there's some kinda deeper meaning to it, but all I'm seeing is all the scraps you dug outta Knock Out's mod shop!"

She gave another irritated sigh. "It's supposed to challenge you to look at the pieces we call garbage and realize that, at one time, they played a vital role in our lives. That they may be broken and used-up, but one can still find some beauty and worth in them if they take time to look."

Blitzwing stared for a long moment at a cluster of cracked hubcaps that fanned out across the lower half of the statue like an organic blossom, then shrugged. "It's still a pile'a junk."

Glory flung her arms up with a growl of frustration. "Why do I bother trying to explain art to a mech who thinks _Doom_ and _Wolfenstein_ are the pinnacle of entertainment?"

"Hey, didn't you write an entire thesis in school about how video games can be art?" Blitzwing retorted.

"That's different!"

Swift muffled a giggle behind her hand. Her parents rarely argued, but anything revolving around Glory's attempts to get Blitzwing to understand and appreciate anything artistic was a sure way to get some minor sparks flying.

The Iacon Museum of Art and Culture was hosting a multiple-artist exhibit this lunar cycle, focusing mainly on mixed-media pieces and found-object sculpture. Normally Glory preferred two-dimensional paintings over anything else, but every so often she got the urge to experiment and venture outside her comfort zone. Which explained why she'd spent weeks gathering junk from Knock Out's shop or just from the streets outside their home, welding them into intricate designs, and dragging her bondmate and daughter into her workshop to show off her work and ask for honest commentary… honest commentary that usually came in the form of a baffled stare.

"Seriously, just tell me what it's supposed to look like!" Blitzwing insisted. "It's a dragon, right? Though I don't see anything that could be wings, so maybe a sea serpent? That row of pointy scraps could be spines…"

"Art doesn't HAVE to look like anything," Glory retorted. "You can see whatever you want to see in it, it doesn't matter what."

Blitzwing scowled. "I STILL don't get it! First you say it's supposed to be about garbage having meaning, now you say it's not supposed to look like anything! Which is it?!"

"Gah!" Glory threw her hands in the air. "Philistine!"

"If you're gonna use human words to insult me, at least tell me what they mean."

"It means you have no appreciation for the arts!"

"I appreciate art when I can fraggin' understand it!"

Glory sighed and turned to face the shuttle-former. "Swift, I can always count on you for an honest opinion. Tell me what you think."

Swift tilted her head to one side as her optics followed a trail of dead batteries up the side of the sculpture. "Mom, I hate to say it, but... don't think I get it either. I mean, it's a neat piece, but… I like your paintings better. Especially the ones of Earth's beaches."

Glory's expression softened. "My ocean series? That one was nice, yes, and the prints still sell well. I guess… I just wanted to explore something else. Do something a little more experimental."

"It was a good experiment," Swift replied, trying to let her mom down gently. "It's just not as nice as your paintings, at least to me."

Her wings drooped slightly at the critique, but she nodded. "Well, I wanted an honest opinion… thank you for giving it to me. I guess there's more to sculpture and found-object art than just throwing things together, right?"

"If it's any consolation, it's still better than Grapple's piece," Swift pointed out. "The stack of empty energon cubes that he said was supposed to represent the perils of consumer culture."

Blitzwing snorted, smiling for the first time since they'd entered the museum. "You mean that stack of cubes the janitors threw away because they thought it was garbage left over from the opening gala?"

Glory giggled behind her hand. "Oh Primus… I felt so bad for him. But I have to admit, it was funny."

"I hope nobody got in trouble for it," Swift noted as the three of them left the statue behind and wandered deeper into the museum. "It was an honest mistake. It'd be awful if the workers got fired for just trying to clean up."

"Oh, Grapple was insistent that they keep their jobs," Glory assured her. "He said that how people interact with a piece of art is just as important as the materials used and how they're utilized. Them disposing of his piece was just an expression of how disposable consumer culture is… or words to that effect. I have to admit I tuned out a lot of his explanation."

"And that's why I don't like hanging out with your artist friends," Blitzwing grumped.

"And now you know how I feel when I have to listen in on your chats with your gamer buddies," Glory retorted, giving him a friendly nudge with her elbow.

Swift laughed softly as they walked through another display of statues, these ones of leaping dynamo-dolphins surrounded by blown glass shaped to resemble sprays of seawater. She was going to miss this when she went off to university - her parents' good-natured bickering, their genuine interest in each other's hobbies even when they didn't fully understand them. She was sure she'd find friends with similar dynamics between them, but it wouldn't be the same.

"So Swift, how was school?" Glory asked. "I'm sorry, I've been so wrapped up in trying to get your father to understand my work-"

"Don't go blaming me for this," Blitzwing grumped.

"-that I haven't even thought to ask you about your day," she finished, ignoring the triple-changer. "How did your meeting with your adviser go?"

Swift sighed. "School went all right… but Datastream wants me to rewrite my essay. She thinks I picked too simple a topic and wants me to try again with something else."

Glory frowned. "If the essay's good enough, then the topic shouldn't matter, should it?"

"I think she's just worried about it getting lost in the crowd." Swift paused to gaze at a glass sculpture of what looked like bolts of lightning frozen mid-strike. "I'll probably rewrite it for the admissions panel, but keep the original."

"That's a good plan," Glory replied with a nod. "Maybe you could let us-"

"Don't push her to share it," Blitzwing cut in. "She already shot me down when I asked to read it. Must be personal."

Swift blushed behind her mask. "It is kinda personal. I might share it later, but not right now."

Glory looked disappointed but nodded. "We'll respect your privacy. But know that we're always happy to read what you write if you want to share."

"I know," Swift replied, continuing to study the glass sculpture. She'd shared very little of her writing with her parents, partly because she wasn't sure of its quality but mostly because much of it was embarrassing fanfiction. It was one thing to have them look over an essay or short story she'd written for school, quite another to let them read one of her _Cityspeakers_ shipping fics…

"Excuse me, but could you step to the side? I can't see this piece."

She yelped and turned, mindful of her wings - she doubted the artist who'd sculpted this piece would call accidentally whacking and shattering it with her wingspan "interacting with artwork." "Sorry!"

"It's okay," the speaker - a short black carbot - assured her. "I just wanted to get a look and couldn't see around you. It sucks being short sometimes." She offered a smile. "No hard feelings?"

Swift shook her head, stepping back to let the carbot get a better look. She'd never met this femme before… but then, she wasn't in Iacon often unless her mom had paintings on display. Her helm came even with Swift's waist, and her sleek black-and-chrome armor had been sculpted into sweeping points befitting a speedster. Her black paint job bore a sheen of rainbow iridescence, like oil on water. And while she didn't wear an Autobot symbol on her plating, her aquamarine optics were sign enough of her Autobot heritage - few Decepticons had blue optics of any shade.

"Um… no, no hard feelings," Swift assured her. "Sorry again. I just forget how big I am sometimes."

"Hey, it's okay," she insisted. "You don't need to apologize for your build." She gazed at the statue. "It's beautiful."

"I always admire artists who dare work with something as fragile as glass," Swift noted. "Transparisteel's functional and strong, but it just can't capture the light like real glass does. And it doesn't have the flaws and air bubbles that make a glass piece unique."

The carbot raised an optic ridge. "You're an artist yourself?"

Swift ducked her head, wondering if she should have just kept her mouth shut. "No, but my mom is. You hang around her artist friends long enough, you pick up a few things."

"That makes sense. My mom's a lawyer, and even though I'd rather get my paint stripped than study law I've forgotten more legal lingo than most people ever learn." She laughed and held out a hand. "Harmony of Unitrex."

"Swift of Polyhex," Swift replied, taking her hand. Her fingers dwarfed Harmony's, but the smaller femme didn't seem intimidated at all.

"I hope this doesn't come across wrong, but I'm surprised that a Decepticon artist would be exhibiting their work in Iacon," Harmony noted. "Does your mom like the museums here better than the ones in Polyhex?"

"There really aren't any museums in Polyhex," Swift confessed. "The city was built to be a military stronghold during the war, and it hasn't changed much since the peace treaty."

"That makes sense," Harmony noted. "What's it like there? I've never really been across the border before."

"It's a beautiful city. It's… well, it's home." She had no idea how to describe the city she'd called home most of her life. She'd never really stopped to think how it might look to an outsider. "Not as many roads as Iacon, but then, more Decepticons are fliers or at least have flight capability."

"Makes sense. You know, I thought about getting a flight mode when I upgraded, but I guess I didn't feel like being that much of a rebel."

Swift frowned. "How is getting the alt mode you want being a rebel?"

Harmony shrugged. "Still not many Autobots getting flight forms. It's still mainly seen as a Decepticon thing. I"m sure it's the same with Decepticons and car modes, right?"

"Actually, there are a lot of Decepticon carformers. More now than during the war, from what my parents say, but none of my friends who got car or motorcycle forms were considered rebellious or anything. Whatever alts they wanted, they could pretty much get."

Granted, some of their decisions regarding their adult frames had raised optic ridges. Her own parents had asked her time and again if she was sure about getting such a bulky alt mode, and she'd had to reassure them several times that it was truly what she wanted. And Ricochet had been terrified to admit to his own family that he had chosen a beast mode… and in all honesty, the Stunticons HAD been disappointed that another racer wouldn't be joining the family. But in the end, they had supported his decision and even welcomed a dragon-former into the family.

"Pit, that sounds nice actually," Harmony replied. "Not getting slag for wanting an alt that's out of the ordinary. It's not like a jet or military vehicle is off-limits, you just catch a lot of flak if you mention wanting, say, a Seeker frame."

Her spark lurched in its chamber. "You didn't get forced into an alt you didn't want, did you?"

"Nah," she assured her, waving a hand dismissively. "Honestly, I like my wheels. I'd have been a terrible flier - I'm not afraid of heights but I have the attention span of a turbognat."

Swift relaxed. "Good. Sorry… my dad was forced into an alt mode he didn't want, and I hate knowing anyone got subjected to that."

"Oh, yeah, don't worry, I was never forced to be a grounder." She gave a little chuckle. "Wow, this conversation took a serious turn. Sorry about that."

"It's okay. It was still interesting. I don't talk to a lot of Autobots, even with the borders open."

"Honestly, same except switch the faction for me," Harmony replied. "But let's talk about something else for a change. What do you do? Work or are you in school?"

Swift's wings relaxed at the shift in subject - she hadn't realized they'd gotten so tense. "I'm almost done with my secondary schooling. I'm looking at options for university right now."

Harmony nodded. "You're about my age, then. I graduate in a couple lunar cycles. Hoping to get into the Iacon medical school, but the competition's pretty fierce. If I don't make it there, at least Tyger Pax has a half-decent medical program."

"Oh, you want to be a medic?" Swift asked.

"Kinda-" began Harmony, but Blitzwing's shout cut her off.

"Swift, we're headin' out!"

"I'm coming!" she called back. "I'm sorry, I gotta run before Mom and Dad leave me behind. Um… maybe I'll see you again later?"

Harmony gave a knowing smile. "How about we cut the 'maybe' and I give you my comm frequency? We can always meet up for a drink later."

Swift smiled back, hoping it reached her optics under the mask. "I'd like that. It was nice talking to you, Harmony."

"Nice talking to you, Swift. Take care."

Swift paused long enough to ensure the carbot's frequency was saved to her comm unit before hurrying after her parents. Technically it wouldn't have been a big deal if they'd left without her - she was an adult now, and could fly home or take transit back to Polyhex on her own. But she'd come here in Blitzwing's company specifically to meet up with Glory, and it felt rude to split off from them now. Besides, there was a chance they might stop by one of her uncles' places on the way home, and it had been awhile since she'd had a chance to visit Astrotrain or Swindle.

Her gaze swept the sculpture gallery one more time, hoping to catch a last glimpse of Harmony before she left. The carbot had already vanished… but another mech was staring at her, a silver mech with an armored-vehicle alt and the crimson optics and violet sigil of a Decepticon. She'd never seen him before in her life, yet he continued to stare at her as she backed out of the gallery and hurried after her parents.

 _Who was that?_ He wasn't any Decepticon she was familiar with - too old to be a classmate, and not one of her teachers or a friend of her parents. And why was he so interested in her? Did he recognize her from somewhere, or was he just baffled as to why a young Decepticon flier was in a museum in an Autobot city, chatting up an Autobot grounder? As if he wasn't a Decepticon in an Autobot city himself…

She made a mental note to bring him up to her parents… but by the time they'd boarded the train and were en route to Polyhex, he had slipped her CPU.

* * *

The Great War had forged the reputations of many terrifying warriors, and Blitzwing and Astrotrain were among the most notorious. And while Blitzwing had the higher kill count, Astrotrain enjoyed plenty of notoriety himself. Sure, his choice of alt modes had earned him plenty of mockery, but only Blitzwing could razz him to his face and walk away unscathed - lesser mechs that survived the experience generally didn't make that mistake twice. And unlike Blitzwing, he hadn't stepped down from duty to start a family but had continued to serve on the front lines, wearing his warrior status with pride.

Swift knew all this, of course… but it was hard to think of Astrotrain as a mighty and fearsome warrior when his scowl melted into a huge smile the moment she and her parents walked into his apartment.

"Swift!" he bellowed, striding over to wrap her up in a hug. "It's been forever! Where've you been? I've got a _Cityspeakers_ save file with your name on it that's been crying for attention!"

"I missed you too," Swift told him, returning the hug. "Sorry I haven't stopped by. School has been busy."

"How can you be too busy to visit your favorite uncle?" he demanded, giving her a thump on the back before releasing her. "And don't tell me Swindle's your favorite uncle. He might try to buy your affection with presents, but who showed you the secret ending on _Drakengard?"_

"And got your aft nearly stripped of paint for showing her that game without our permission," Glory reminded him.

"Hey, she lived through it without getting scarred for life," Astrotrain shot back. "And you saw worse during the war."

"I love both my uncles," Swift cut in before Glory could retort. "I promise I'll stop by more often, Uncle Astro, okay? Wildfire says hi, by the way."

"Did he?" Astrotrain asked. "Surprised that drone's still operational after all these vorns. Anyone want drinks?"

"Yes, thank you," Glory replied.

"Only if it's strong," Blitzwing added. "I've spent the past few hours listening to artist gibberish, I need a pick-me-up."

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," Glory insisted.

Astrotrain snorted. "I'll getcha somethin' strong, Blitz. Go have a seat. Swift, I got your favorite."

"Thanks, Uncle Astro."

Swift settled herself in a chair in the living room, checking the viewscreen as she did so. They must have stopped by while Astrotrain was in the middle of a game - and from the look of the pause screen it was _Cityspeakers,_ an action-RPG that he'd managed to get her addicted to a few years ago. She wasn't terribly good at the actual gaming part, but she had fallen in love with the story of a brave city-speaker and her fight to save Cybertron from a horrific alien invasion, and had a lot of fond memories of watching Astrotrain explore the game and discussing fan theories with him.

She smiled softly. Swindle might be the "rich" uncle who liked to spoil her with gifts and treats, but if she had to have a preference she was more fond of Astrotrain. Sure, he had grumbled on occasion when asked to babysit her, and would have died a cruel death before admitting he was fond of the sparkling. But he had always been thrilled to share new games with her (even if some of those games had been inappropriate for a sparkling), and was almost as fiercely protective of her as Blitzwing. And even as a newly upgraded adult she made it a point to visit him whenever she had a chance, whether to play a game together or just share another chapter of her fanfic with him.

 _You'll share your silly romantic fanfics with Uncle Astro but not your own parents,_ some snarky voice in the back of her CPU noted, but she shoved it aside. Her parents would just think it was strange. Uncle Astro always made faces at the mushy romantic bits of her writing, but he understood the world of the game and the character dynamics and made a valuable resource for correcting minor details in her writing.

"So how was the art gallery, besides boring?" asked Astrotrain as he swung by Swift's seat to offer her a cube of ruby-colored energon.

"It was NOT boring," Glory insisted, taking her own cube. "There's always something fascinating to see there. Though I confess my latest exhibit was a bit of a failure. Live and learn, I suppose."

Astrotrain shrugged. "Art's not my thing. Prefer destroyin' things to makin' them."

"So I've noticed," Glory noted dryly.

Swift took a swig of her drink to hide a giggle. She knew for a fact that statement wasn't entirely true - if the amount of time he spent on his _Minecraft_ game building a scale replica of Kaon was any indication.

"Though speakin' of makin' things… you two ever hear back from the Vector Sigma folks?"

Blitzwing nodded, beaming with excitement. "We've been approved for key access! There's a waitin' list, yeah, but it's finally happening!"

Astrotrain snorted. "Can't believe you're actually excited about havin' another kid. I thought Swift was gonna be your first an' last."

"We've always talked about creating another child," Glory replied. "We just wanted to wait until Swift was older. We didn't want her to feel like she had to compete for our affection."

Swift ducked her head. She wanted to insist that she wouldn't have minded a brother or sister growing up, but she held her vocalizer. No sense upsetting her parents. And she'd grown up perfectly content with her friends and with Wildfire - she hadn't lacked for playmates.

"And admit it, you're lookin' forward to havin' another little one around to spoil," Blitzwing told him with a cackle. "Swift had you wrapped around her finger, and this new little one'll do it too."

"Oh hush," Astrotrain snarled as he flopped into a chair next to Swift. "Nobody replaces Swift. And I'm over my mushy phase."

Despite Astrotrain's insistence, though, her father's words sent a little chill through Swift. Her parents had talked about having another sparkling for some time, and she had accepted that their love for a new son or daughter would by no means diminish their love for her. But some part of her still balked at the thought of "sharing" her uncles with a new sibling. Swindle was already positively gleeful at the thought of another sparkling to spoil, and as much as Astrotrain claimed otherwise, she knew that his spark would be lost to them the moment they were placed in his arms.

 _I'm already going to lose Wildfire to them… I don't want to lose my uncles too._ Poor Wildfire had lost a lot of his spunk since her upgrade - he was still affectionate towards her, but he no longer demanded to share a berth with her or trailed after her like a loyal turbohound. He had been programmed to protect sparklings, not adult mechs, and now that Swift was upgraded he moped around the house and spent much of his time sulking in a corner or napping.

Glory assured her that another sparkling's presence would perk her old friend right up again… but Swift knew that would only mean that her bodyguard's affections would be transferred to the new sparkling rather than directed at her. And while she didn't begrudge her future sibling the right to know and love Wildfire, she hated the idea of losing him to the newcomer.

 _Stop it,_ she told herself. _You're a grown-up. Grown-ups don't get jealous of a sparkling who hasn't even been sparked yet._

"Besides, it's not like you're gonna be havin' a new one anytime soon," Astrotrain pointed out. "Everyone knows Autobots get first priority for Sigma Keys."

"That's a pack of lies," Glory insisted. "The list is impartial - it's first come, first served."

"So THEY say," Astrotrain grumbled. "But I heard Steelwing an' her partner have been waiting months for a key, while plenty of Autobot got their access within weeks."

"Really?" asked Glory. "Which Autobots?"

"Dunno," Astrotrain replied, "but Octane says he knows about 'em."

"I trust Octane 'bout as far as the cassettes can throw a Dinobot," Blitzwing retorted. "He's just fulla slag."

"We've come a long way since Springer and his Knights of Cybertron," Glory added. "Favoritism based on faction is a thing of the past - or it SHOULD be."

"Should be, but ain't." Astrotrain tossed back the rest of his drink. "Some days it feels like nothin's changed since the war, except nobody's tryin' to kill each other anymore."

"Since when were YOU the paranoid one?" Blitzwing demanded as he took a drink of his own. His faceplates screwed up in disgust. "Gah… what the frag did you mix this with? Paint thinner?"

"You SAID you wanted it strong!"

Swift tuned her parents and uncle out and focused on her own drink, sipping it slowly to make it last. Astrotrain's words lingered in her processor, however. It seemed Harmony's words were right - despite the war being long over, a lot of tension remained, much of it revolving around the different factions and how they viewed each other. And while the strife might arise from much less serious circumstances - alt modes and Sigma Keys as opposed to oilshed and death - it still bothered her.

But she was just one femme, a quiet student who wrote video game fanfic in her spare time. What could she do about it?


End file.
